


There's Always a Lower Place to Fall

by Joyful



Series: Endings and Beginnings [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Addiction, Depression, Drug Addiction, Grief, Homosexuality, Huntington's Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyful/pseuds/Joyful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing Kurt, Blaine struggles to deal with his pain.  He falls into a spiral of addiction, promiscuity and various self-destructive behaviors.  Sequel to "Down Where the World is Ending"</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Always a Lower Place to Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theauthor2010](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthor2010/gifts).



Blaine sighed as he sat down on his bed. His mother, father and sister had just left, leaving him alone in his Princeton dorm room. His mother had done most of his unpacking while Shelly flirted with some guys down the hall and his father had a long conversation with the RA about homophobia and tolerance and whether or not Blaine would be safe there. After he'd hugged his parents and kissed his sister's cheek, his family left him there in his new dorm room. His roommate hadn't shown up yet, and he was currently decorating his wall. He had pictures of all his friends. Pictures of the Warblers, pictures of the New Directions—especially Rachel, who was pretty much his best friend—and pictures of Kurt. As he tacked up the picture of them dancing to “Us” at the Homecoming Dance, Blaine remembered what his father had said right before he left.

“Remember, Blaine. This is a fresh start for you. Don't hang onto the past forever. Enjoy college, Kurt would want you to,” Dr. Anderson told his son before hugging him tightly.

“I know Dad,” Blaine said, blinking back tears. He sometimes felt like he'd spent the whole summer doing nothing but crying. Well, apart from the times Rachel had pushed him to sing with her. Blaine felt so mechanical when he nodded to his dad. Why did everyone keep pushing him to _move on_? As he tacked up more pictures of him and Kurt, all he could think about was that Kurt was gone.

Dead.

It was now the first week of September. Labor Day weekend, when the freshmen moved in and started freshmen orientation. Kurt had died in May. It hadn't even been a full four months yet, and everyone kept expecting Blaine to act like nothing had happened. Like the love of his life, his soulmate, hadn't spent the past year suffering and deteriorating from a painful degenerative disease, then drowned in the bath. Like Blaine's entire reason for living hadn't been taken away from him. Most of Blaine wanted to just curl up in bed all the time and never leave. But Kurt had made him make all those promises. Promises about moving on and not mourning him forever. Promises Blaine wasn't sure he could keep. Blaine was getting lost in his memories again, and sniffled a bit when the door flew open and another guy walked in.

He was tall, not as tall as Finn—Kurt's stepbrother—but obviously over six feet. He was fit and athletic-looking. He slipped off his Letterman's jacket from some high school somewhere and tossed it on the spare bed, revealing strong, tanned muscles. The boy had dirty blonde curls brushed back on his head, but not gelled down like Blaine used to wear his—before Kurt told him how much better he looked when he let his hair curl naturally—and his blue eyes sparkled. They weren't that pale, constantly changing blue Kurt's eyes had been. Kurt's eyes had been like tiny solar systems, sparkling with stardust, and never the same color twice. These eyes were just...blue. Blaine could tell that the newcomer was attractive, but it was an passive observation. Like noting whether a horse was handsome or a kitten was cute. Still, Blaine knew he had to be polite.

“Blaine Anderson,” Blaine said, holding out his hand.

“Kyle Miller,” the taller boy answered, taking the hand and shaking it. “Guess I'm your roommate.”

“If you want to be,” Blaine started. “I have to tell you before you settle in, I'm gay, and if you have a problem rooming with a gay guy the RA said she could switch some rooms around, there's another gay guy down the hall who's willing to room with me.”

“Nah, I don't care,” Kyle said. “As long as you don't grab my ass without asking for permission first,” Kyle smirked.

“And would you give it?” Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow. He had a bit of a smile on his face, and it felt vaguely uncomfortable. Like his facial muscles had forgotten how to take that shape.

“It probably depends how drunk I am,” Kyle said, dropping his bags on the floor.

“Do you have a lot of things left to bring in?” Blaine changed the subject.

“A few,” Kyle said. “Probably take me about 3 trips to unload my car. I didn't bring too much. Home's only two hours away, so my mom's demanding I come home regularly for visits.”

“Lucky. It took us almost twelve hours to get here. My sister and mother kept needing to stop at rest stops.”

“Where's home?” Kyle asked.

“Ohio,” Blaine asked. He was fingering the hourglass charm he wore on a chain around his neck. It had been made especially for him on request. The hourglass reminded him that time on this planet, time with people, was limited. It would all run out eventually. And instead of sand, it contained a tiny amount of Kurt's ashes. Shelly thought the necklace was creepy, but Burt, Kurt's father, had understood. He'd lost his first wife years ago. To the same neurological monster that had taken Kurt. “Do you want some help carrying your stuff up? I'm mostly unpacked, just hanging up pictures and stuff.”

“Sure,” Kyle smiled.

“So, did you leave a girlfriend at home?” Blaine asked as they walked out to the parking lot. As quiet as he'd been these last few months, he hadn't forgotten how to make small talk, or be polite. But the words felt odd. His socialization skills felt rusty. And he realized that apart from his family, Kurt's family and Rachel he'd hardly spoken to anyone in months. Not like this. Not small talk. It felt weird; oddly comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.

“I had a girlfriend in high school, but we broke up over the summer. Both of us wanted to be free when we started college. College is going to be hard enough without long-distance relationships. Especially since she went to Berkeley,” Kyle smiled.

“Yeah, that would be difficult to maintain,” Blaine agreed as they walked out into the early September sunlight. Kyle pointed out his car and Blaine pulled out a couple boxes.

“How about you? You have a boyfriend back in Ohio?” Kyle asked.

“No, I'm single.” Blaine tried to curb the sadness in his voice, but he knew it spilled out anyway.

“Dude, if it's none of my business, tell me to fuck off, but you sound sad. Bad break-up?” Kyle asked as they carried his stuff up to their room.

“Not exactly,” Blaine said. “My boyfriend died in May.”

“Oh, sorry, man,” Kyle said.

“Yeah,” Blaine said. He heard it all the time. _I'm so sorry for your loss,_ or some variation of the phrase. He was getting so tired of hearing everyone apologize. It was nobody's fault, and hearing people apologize always made Blaine feel like he had the right to blame somebody for Kurt's death. But he couldn't blame anyone, not rationally. So usually he just blamed himself for not being there when it happened.

“How did it happen?” Kyle asked curiously as he pushed the door to their room open and set his stuff down on the floor.

“Kurt had seizures sometimes, because of a neurological condition. He had a seizure in the bathtub and drowned,” Blaine answered. He stopped at his desk and ran his finger over Kurt's picture. He looked down and realized his necklace was showing, and he slipped the small glass charm beneath his shirt, to feel it against his skin. Keeping Kurt close to him made Blaine feel ever so slightly braver.

“That seriously sucks,” Kyle said.

They were disturbed by a knock at the door. A pretty girl with curly red hair was standing there.

“Hi! I'm Molly,” she grinned.

“Hey Molly,” Kyle grinned back. Blaine thought they were flirting, but it had been so long since he'd flirted with anyone, he'd almost forgotten what it looked like.

“I wanted to let you guys know that our floor is having a party tonight,” she smiled. “Our first college party.”

“Sounds good,” Kyle said. “Where is it?”

“At the other end of the hall,” she pointed.

“We'll be there,” Kyle said, speaking for both of them. He looked at Blaine. “You look like you could use a party.”

*****

Blaine's first college party involved drinking large amounts of alcohol, dancing awkwardly to Top 40 radio, and being introduced to everyone on his floor. Blaine had never been a big drinker, so he started slowly. Everyone was underage, and technically they could all be expelled for drinking, but the semester hadn't actually begun yet, so they were all getting away with it on a technicality.

After about four drinks, Blaine felt himself relaxing. For this first time in months he didn't feel like he was about to break. He was smiling openly and dancing, and talking with people. There were two girls on his floor, Molly and Tiffany who were also interested in theater like he was, and they had a lot to talk about. They mostly talked about musicals. About their favorite musicals, about musicals they'd been in in high school, about musicals they wanted to be in someday. Blaine felt his heart clench when Tiffany started talking about _Gypsy_. “Rose's Turn” had always been one of Kurt's favorite songs. He started thinking about Kurt again, which made him sad as usual, and had some more to drink. After about three drinks he had completely forgotten to be sad.

He danced with the girls, and after the radio had been turned off they made their own music, singing showtunes. Tiffany disappeared first, running off to the girls' room to puke, but Molly kept up with Blaine for hours, singing, dancing and drinking. They met another couple people, but mainly spent time together. She drunkenly tried to kiss him at one point, but after Blaine assured her he was very, very gay, she broke into a grin and instantly declared herself his fag hag. He laughed and they danced some more.

Eventually, he made it to his dorm room again, and tucked himself into his bed. Kyle had passed out on one of the couches in the lounge. He'd put the pictures up on his wall so that he could see them while he laid in his bed. He curled up, slightly nauseous, and stared at Kurt's face. The tears started flowing only a couple of minutes after his head hit the pillow and within moments, he was sobbing. He could taste snot and tears and booze as the tears ran down his face, getting his pillow soggy.

“God, Kurt, I miss you,” Blaine sobbed drunkenly. “I love you so much, Baby. Come back to me.” His damp hand pressed against the picture. “Come back to me, Kurt, come back. I miss you. I need you.”

He laid there, nauseous, dizzy, and brokenhearted as he cried himself to sleep. So much for a fresh start.

*End 1*


End file.
